


Bells and Whistles

by viiaitch



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Girls, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 09:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18962113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viiaitch/pseuds/viiaitch
Summary: A flash of light, and Ichigo’s school uniform is replaced with a white and pink monstrosity of a dress, covered with enough frills and lace to stock a small arts and crafts store and yet somehow only falling halfway down his thighs. The moon-tipped staff has extended to its full length, and it at least is a comfortable weight in Ichigo’s hand, even if there’s a lot more pearls and gemstones on it than he’d like.





	Bells and Whistles

**Author's Note:**

> i had to restart this like four times. this fic did not want to be written. because of this the style is p different with a lot more jumping around, since that was the only way i could get it to come out at all orz
> 
> also look at that another fic i want to add on to later o)-( why do i do this to myself

There’s no time to overthink it.

 

Rukia’s bleeding out on the ground, Karin is still passed out just a few feet away, Goat Face and Yuzu are probably knocked out nearer the rubble of their house’s wall, and Ichigo  _ doesn’t have time to hesitate. _ That… thing- hollow, Rukia had called it- is rushing towards them, and dammit, Ichigo has always been a protector. This might be way beyond anything he’s used to, anything from his normal life, but he has people to protect, and if that means accepting mysterious magical powers from a near stranger, then so be it.

 

Ichigo’s fingers wrap around the neck of the staff, just below the inexplicably bunny shaped topper, and then everything’s bright and colorful and the next thing he knows-

 

Power is surging through Ichigo’s body, and he  _ knows  _ he can take this thing.

 

The hollow roars, loud enough to make Ichigo’s chest resonate with the sound, but he only bears his teeth at the monster, and chucks the staff he’s still gripping right at the thing’s ugly masked face.

 

The mask shatters, and the hollow soon after; the staff does not.

 

There’s a few beats of silence while Ichigo feels some of that overwhelming power drain away, and then Rukia speaks up from somewhere behind him.

 

“Did you just throw your zanpakuto at it?!”

 

Presumably, that would be the staff thing, which is still laying out in the middle of the street. Ichigo takes a step to go get it and-

 

His foot gives out and he goes sprawling to the ground and  _ what the fuck are those things on his feet.  _

 

“That’s… that’s not how zanpakuto work. You really… you just… with brute force…” Rukia sounds like she’s having some kind of meltdown, while Ichigo has an entirely different one, because-

 

Ichigo looks over at the now significantly more normal looking Rukia. The girl who’d looked like some weird cosplayer just a few minutes ago.

 

He looks down at himself, dreading what he’ll see, and-

 

Whoever designed this stupid outfit made the skirt way too short, and Ichigo almost wishes he let the hollow get him.

 

* * *

 

“Quit being such a baby about it,” Rukia says, rolling her eyes as she shoves Ichigo in the direction that apparently another monster- hollow- has appeared. At least this one’s not during school hours, like a few the past couple of days. “It’s just a uniform, there’s no reason for you to act so weird. Now hurry up and transform.”

 

“It’s a stupid excuse for a uniform,” Ichigo hisses, even as he’s reaching for the shrunken down scepter in his pocket. He’s tried refusing before, but quickly learned that magical girl powers or no, Rukia can pack one hell of a punch.

 

It’s so stupid, and Ichigo hates that he still feels obligated use his accidentally stolen powers- because if Ichigo can protect people, he has to. It’s just a part of who he is.

 

Even if the way he has to do it is terrible and stupid and  _ really who designed this ‘uniform.’ _

 

A flash of light, and Ichigo’s school uniform is replaced with a white and pink monstrosity of a dress, covered with enough frills and lace to stock a small arts and crafts store and yet somehow only falling halfway down his thighs. The moon-tipped staff has extended to its full length, and it at least is a comfortable weight in Ichigo’s hand, even if there’s a lot more pearls and gemstones on it than he’d like.

 

“Let’s just get this over with.”

 

* * *

 

The first time Rukia drags Ichigo to the Urahara Shoten, he actually allows himself some degree of hope- it’s a shop that apparently has a secret business catering to magical girls (or mages, as Rukia seems to insist, but Ichigo knows the truth), so maybe that means they have some way of changing the outfit he finds himself in whenever he transforms. He sure as hell didn’t pick it, after all, but this is a magic shop for magic stuff, so surely there’s some way to magically change his clothes.

 

“I’m afraid the uniform is tied to powers,” the shopkeeper- Ichigo’s pretty sure it’s Urahara, though he wasn’t really paying attention to the guy when they first walked in the shop- says, tilting his head curiously. “Why, is there something wrong with it?”

 

_ Something wrong  _ is an understatement. Ugh.

 

Ichigo’s stuck with it, then.

 

“No,” he mutters, going over to look at a shelf of weirdly shaped candies. “Nothing wrong with it.”

 

* * *

 

It’s almost depressing how easy it is for Ichigo to get used to fighting in high heels and a poofy mini skirt. It helps that hollows don’t seem to register anything weird about a six foot tall guy covered in frills and bows coming at them, though it might have to do with them not surviving long enough to show much of a reaction.

 

Ichigo isn’t complaining. The less people that see him in this ridiculous getup, the better.

 

* * *

 

_ Uryu Ishida is also magical apparently. _

 

_ Uryu Ishida doesn’t have to crossdress to kill hollows apparently. _

 

_ Ichigo hates his life. _

 

* * *

 

It’s almost worse that Ichigo’s friends just take his ‘battle uniform’ (as Rukia calls it) in stride. Sure, at least they’re not laughing at Ichigo, but having Uryu compliment the craftsmanship and demand to get better looks at the different layers of laces and fabrics, having Orihime lament about wanting such a nice outfit, and having Chad just act like it’s completely fucking normal to see Ichigo looking like some crossdressing cosplayer is depressing in its own way.

 

* * *

 

When Rukia got taken away, back to whatever weird dimension she came from- and it’s Ichigo’s fault, it’s all his fault, she’s another person he couldn’t protect- he didn’t have time to really take in the appearances of the men that took her.

 

He was a little busy bleeding out on the ground, his staff snapped in two and his white dress darkening with his own blood.

 

And then there was the re-awakening and the training- Urahara is a lot harsher than Ichigo had thought, but his training methods were effective.

 

There’d been some raised eyebrows when Ichigo crawled out of that pit in the training grounds, familiar white and orange skirt and blouse back on his body- the first time Urahara had seen Ichigo transformed- but there hadn’t been any time to notice or ask. Ichigo had to get stronger, or he’d never be able to save Rukia, after all.

 

So it’s only when Ichigo is approaching the western gate to the Seireitei when he notices.

 

It’s hard not to, with how massive Jidanbo is. Hard not to notice that his own ‘battle uniform’ is pretty different from Ichigo’s.

 

“ _ WHAT THE FUCK, WHY ISN’T HE WEARING A SKIRT-” _

 

* * *

 

The first thing Ichigo does when he gets back to the human world is find Urahara. He doesn’t bother to drop the transformation- Urahara’s seen this embarrassment of an outfit already, and it kinda helps drive home the point.

 

“WHY,” he shouts, and somehow Urahara doesn’t even flinch at the volume, “DID YOU NOT TELL ME THAT I’M SUPPOSED TO HAVE PANTS?!”

 

“My, my, Kurosaki-san, we’re near a residential area- you don’t want to disturb anyone, do you?” Urahara smiles benignly, but Ichigo isn’t fooled. He can see the glimmer of amusement in the shopkeeper’s eyes- not even the shadow of his hat is enough to hide it.

 

The man slides around the counter where he’d been lounging, some notebook filled with near-illegible scribbles and diagrams left behind. Ichigo follows him with narrowed eyes as he approaches.

 

“And besides,” Urahara says, shoulder brushing Ichigo’s as he walks by, reaches out to grab something from a nearby shelf. “Wouldn’t it be cruel, to tell you about that which you can’t have?”

 

Ichigo snarls, rounding on Urahara, skirt flaring out with the motion. “You could have warned me. Or… found me a way to make mine  _ not a fucking skirt- _ ”

 

“The uniform is tied to your powers, Kurosaki-san,” Urahara interrupts, humming as he straightens up a row of boxes. “Just because yours was… shaped a bit by borrowed power, it doesn’t make it any less your own.”

 

Ichigo’s about to snap at Urahara again, maybe kick him in the back- if there’s anything good about this outfit, it’s that heels can really do some damage- when the shopkeeper is up in Ichigo’s personal space, uncomfortably close.

 

“And besides,” Urahara sounds way too pleased and amused. Ichigo doesn’t like it. “I think it suits you. Really shows off your hips.”

 

Ichigo freezes.

 

Urahara’s smile only widens at Ichigo’s silence, and he slips past Ichigo to go back to whatever he was doing behind the counter before.

 

* * *

 

Ichigo hasn’t felt self conscious in his transformation outfit since those first few weeks helping Rukia take care of her job.

 

Urahara ruins all that progress, and every time Ichigo’s out smacking around hollows, he finds himself fidgeting with and adjusting his clothes every spare moment.

 

_ I think it suits you. _

 

What the fuck is that supposed to mean.

**Author's Note:**

> day 6: it's been a long fight. i am still a day behind. the end is in sight but i know i cannot rest. the people are counting on me. it is past midnight and only now do the words come to me, only now am i able to string together my stories into (somewhat) coherent sentences and paragraphs. the road is long and hard, and it is an uphill battle, but until my dying breath, i will continue to write gay shit


End file.
